Revenge of the Empress
by Cartooniac
Summary: Di Lung (formerly "Tim") is having trouble adjusting to his new life in New York, but when news arrives that the Evil Empress is rising once again, he and his niece must head back to China and decide whether to reform her or to destroy her once and for all.
1. Chapter 1

**_Hey readers, just wanted to give you a heads up. This is my first fanfiction, so don't go too hard on me. It's taken me months to build up the courage (ha, get it? Courage?) to actually post this thing up. Nine out of ten times I just end up deleting it. Nevermind, you got the idea, right? Okay, Enjoy._**

* * *

**_Tim_**

Every day.

Every day I do the same.

Morning, coffee, rush.

Subway, Manhattan, work.

Draw.

Bus home, Brooklyn.

* * *

I shove in the rusty key, twist. The old wooden door creaks open.

Same tiny apartment.

Same sketches of robots and machinery scattered on walls and floors.

Same slanted drawing tablet.

Same.

* * *

It used to be more exciting back in China.

Way more exciting.

Missles, rockets.

Diabolical explosions.

Abacus-boarding.

Building whatever I want.

Even that stupid Courage dog was better than this.

* * *

Now all I do is draw for money, day in and day out.

It does nothing, but there is enough money to live here, in New York City.

In China, I had money no matter what.

All I wanted.

* * *

A paper rustles under my flat-soled sneaker.

I pick it up.

It is a plan for Mecha Courage 2.0.

Too bad I am far from Nowhere now… in more ways than one.

In the big glass aquarium waits my frog.

I open the jar, release the flies into the tank.

This makes him happy, but I knew he would never be happier than he was in China.

He no longer bubbles.

* * *

It is only me and Frog until I hear the door open and slam shut once again.

Hastily locking the clasp, the girl sweeps her jagged jet-black bangs out of her large, square-rimmed glasses. She looks up at me, guilt written plain on her face.

"What did you do this time?" I ask, screwing the lid back onto the Fly jar.

She responds. "Er... just set up some more food boobytraps, one during lunch and one after school; drew a few more comics, too. Passed 'em around the classroom." She shrugs. "Nothing much."

Behind the door, muffled swears descend down the stairwell.

My niece sighs with relief.

"Who were they?"

"Oh, just a few guys that happened to mess with me..." Her words trailed off as a smirk lit up her face.

Of course.

It looks like the passion for art isn't the only thing she has inherited from me.

* * *

**_Kaitlyn_**

"So, whatcha up to?" I ask. Even after being chased by Jeremy Middle's biggest and baddest brutes (what goes around comes back around, I guess), I was still pretty pumped for spending the afternoon with my favorite uncle.

"Same."

Indeed everything was, but I'm always excited to look at his robot sketches. I've always wanted to see them in action, but Uncle Tim says that it isn't possible. Here, at least. I bet I would've seen all of them built a long time ago if we were still in China.

I give Frog a little pat on his warty head. "Any new robot ideas?"

"I'm too busy."

"Oh." It was true, work did take up a lot of Uncle Tim's time. It stretches long hours here in New York, but the pay is fine. But then I remember, back then he didn't have to work for a single minute and still had all the money in the world. In all of China, at least.

"I guess I'll start on my homework now."

He doesn't respond, and I can see that he's busy popping a pack of Ramen Noodles in the microwave.

On my way to the desk, I spot a frame hanging on the wall. I don't remember it being there last time. It's a picture, of Uncle Tim. He looks the same, except I can tell that he's younger. Skinnier, with an abacus in one hand and a toothy smirk on his face. He's surrounded by all these crazy robots, inventions, and pictures of himself (with the same expression).

Then I realize, this isn't Uncle Tim. It's Di Lung, nephew of the Chinese Empresses and former evil genius. _Di Lung. Big Dragon. _ That's his Chinese name, I think, symbolizing an entirely different person. Uncle Tim, the Uncle Tim I know, has long since built a working robot, his gigantic tools and wrenches used to build replaced with simply a pencil and paintbrush. He is just a common New Yorker.

I wonder what it would be like if it were Uncle Di Lung instead of Uncle Tim.


	2. Chapter 2

**_This chapter took me forever, and I'm still not finished. Should I include Uncle Tim's point of view in this chapter, or in the next one? _**

* * *

**_Kaitlyn_**

_I'll borrow the homework from Daniel tomorrow, _I think as my ballpoint pen glides across the paper; not solving integrated algebra problems, but creating oodles and doodles of robots. I drew one flying through space, with its awesome rocket boots (laser backup, of course), based off one of Uncle Tim's favorite designs. There was a bunch of Alien Droids that threatened to blow the world up, also.

_Have no fear, _I write in all capitals in the top margin. _Super robot is here!_

My exciting fantasy world immediately shatters at the sound of the doorbell. They're here to pick me up. _Ughh._

_"Kaitlyn,"_ I hear Uncle Tim call from the living room. _"Your mother is here to take you home!"_

_"Just a sec!"_ I take one last look at the rumpled sheet of loose-leaf, jam-packed with doodles, and then quickly shove it into my backpack, along with my comics. Wouldn't want mom to see it. She would probably blow a fuse, knowing that I'm putting aside homework in exchange for something I actually enjoy.

Tucking the remaining scraps of paper in, I swing one strap over my shoulder, grab my binder, and dash out of the room before mom could start suspecting. Last time I took too long, and I got a good lecture that night about tardiness. _Talk about it._

At the very sight of me, my mother's face twists. She's probably trying to find a reason to yell at me and is upset that she can't. _Ha._

"How was Kaitlyn today?" asks my mom in a semi-sweet tone that makes me want to double over. Just hearing her voice makes me remember that I got a 30 on my Spanish quiz. _Crap. _

"She was fine. Finished all her homework, and then I saw her studying extra," he says, winking at me once Mom's back is turned.

I love my uncle.

Waving a final goodbye to Uncle Tim, I watch as the old wooden door shuts with a dreary creak. Almost straightaway, Mom fires questions at me.

"How was school?"

"Good." _Why do you care?_

"Any exams for me to sign?"

"Nope." Lie.

"Any exams tomorrow?"

"Nope." Truth.

"Did you hand in that missing assignment?"

"Yep." _Shoot, _I totally forgot!

"What did you study extra?"

"Um…Math." Yeah right, _in a million years!_

In the car wait my little sister and brother, fighting over some kind of new toy that mom must've spoiled them with. I used to do the same thing, until I realized I wasn't getting anything new anymore. Pretty ironic, considering the fact that I'm the oldest. _I_ should be getting all the new stuff, not _them. _I don't dare complain to my mom, though. Who knows what else she can take away from me? I don't want to find out.

"You'll be staying at your Uncle Tim's place after school tomorrow, too," says my mom suddenly, breaking the silence. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, mother, I understand."

_YESS!_ I try to act as casual as I can, because if I show any kind of excitement whatsoever she might cancel the whole thing. However, deep inside, I squeal with glee. A_nother afternoon of freedom!_

* * *

The dismissal bell rings, both satisfying and deafening as I rush to the double-doors. The crowd shoves its way out, and I take a deep breath of fresh air, filling me with yet another ton of exhilaration. I have a bunch of comics planned, courtesy of Daniel, and nothing's gonna stop me today.

"So, didja hear about the new administrator in League?" asks Daniel, joining me in the struggle to the sidewalk. I can barely hear him because the exit is jammed with not only the eighth, but all the sixth and seventh graders, too, all chattering and gossiping at the same time. Talk about ear-splitting, in more ways than one!

"Nope. But he was probably responsible to the new champion skins." I shrugged.

"His name's Master Daniel."

I am so intrigued in our conversation that I forget to put on my hoodie. It's not until I hear _"HEY, THERE SHE IS!"_ behind me when I realize my mistake.

I'm not ignoring my instinct to dash, but I still sneak a glance over my shoulder to make sure it's them.

It is.

Daniel yelps and dives into a bush as I take off, running for my life.

"YOU CAN RUN, BUT YOU CAN'T HIDE!" hollers the leader of the pack, Luis. "Oh wait, you can't do neither!"

He's right, because I'm starting to run out of fuel. I turn the corner just as one of them almost catches me, and dart into an alleyway, just in time for me to trip over my feet. I know they're gonna find me. I know.

Footsteps pound nearer. My heartbeat matches the tempo.

Once they near the alley, I hear a familiar voice shout suddenly, "SHE WENT THIS WAY!" From the corner, I can see the figure gesture across the street. The rest of the pack follows.

I'm super confused. Whoever said that was the one that saw me, _for sure_, run into the alleyway. And I also knew that not one of Luis's cronies would stick up for me. _Who in the world…?_

Just before I can recover from my shock, I hear the same voice again, but this time hushed to a murmur.

"You owe me big time," says David. He helps me up, and I am finally able to speak again.

"W-wha-"

"Um_, yeah._ You made me pretend to be one of Luis's goons. Do you know how _humiliating_ that is?" He laughs.

"I know right? Sorry." I chuckle in return. Everything from his chromatic eyes to the skill-and-crossbones etched on his shirt makes me feel at ease again.

"Naw, it's okay. The moment I saw you without your disguise, I knew that you were dead meat. So yeah." He shrugs, as if it's nothing at all, but it is.

"But if it weren't for you, I would probably be ground beef by now," I joke.

Pretty soon, Daniel catches up, twigs and leaves sticking out of his hair.

"I-I'm sorry! I wanted to help but Luis was there and the whole group too a-and-"

I pat his shoulder and smile. "It's okay." It's common for a person like Daniel to have a natural fear of Luis. I do, too, but I like to mess with his gang because of how mean they are to everyone.

Me, Daniel, and David prepare to do our everyday routine. The three of us assemble in a triangle and brofist both people to the left and right of us. Then, we say bye, and go our separate ways.

I honestly don't know where I would be without these two people. Probably buried alive.

* * *

When I finally arrive at Uncle Tim's, I notice immediately that something's up. First off, the TV is on. It almost never is. Uncle Tim sits on the couch, concentrating on some sort of universal news broadcast. It's from China.


End file.
